


Finish The Fic: Cass / When The Storm Breaks

by lynnthere_donethat



Series: One-Shots [3]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 22:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnthere_donethat/pseuds/lynnthere_donethat
Summary: Based off of one of Cass's unfinished wips that was posted to tumblr. This is my take of the scenario.





	Finish The Fic: Cass / When The Storm Breaks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bastardoftherealm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastardoftherealm/gifts).

> Original Post: https://thosedamnsmoshkids.tumblr.com/post/186890721516/hi-yall-so-i-have-a-few-unfinished-works-that
> 
> Posted on Tumblr as well! ( https://whatisasmosh.tumblr.com )

A storm blusters and rages, rain clattering against the window panes with a heavy insistence. Joven is curled up in a ratty armchair near a window, yellow light softly lighting the otherwise dark apartment. The clock blinks dully- green light illuminating a small dome of haze. The digits glared mockingly at Joven’s exhausted frame. An empty glass sat abandoned on the dinged and dented coffee table. His roommate was off, either visiting family or getting some more sketchy furniture with a shady past. 

As the TV blearily drones on about whatever sitcom is airing next, the storm settles to slight rumbles and the rain patters softly against the windows. There was a tentative knock on the door, startling Joven out of his intoxicated stupor. While he wasn’t magically sobered, Joven managed to not stumble as he opened the door, finding a drenched, silver haired man. 

** _\--- < / > ---_ **

When he shows up at Joven’s door, it’s clear it’s not the first time this has happened, and it’s also clear that Joven is not the first person Wes would’ve gone to. He tries not to take it as an insult, guiding a red-faced, tear-stained Wes into the cool darkness of his dorm. 

He makes tea with his roommate’s tiny water heater, adding enough sugar to kill a small animal, grabbing the first-aid kit from the cupboard. Joven pushes the mug into Wes’s shaking fingers, trying to ignore the feeling that he gets when he folds Wes’s hands around the cup with his fingertips. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he’s said since he arrived, repeating it over and over again with intermittent uses of Joven’s name. He hushes Wes each time, trying to hammer it into his head that this isn’t his fucking fault. Kind to a fault. 

He’s positioned himself in between Wes’s legs, something that would seem compromising from an outside perspective, but he feels Wes ease, and in response Joven doesn’t move an inch from where he’s kneeling. More afraid of how his heart will race coming in contact with the skin of Wes’s thigh than frightening the man with his movements. 

Joven dabs at the cuts on his face and arms with a warm cloth, trying not to catch Wes’s eyes. Everytime he does, he hates himself just a little more. And it kills him that he doesn’t know why he does.

“I should’ve gone to Mari, or Sohinki or-” It’s the first words he’s said that’s not the droning apologies. “You shouldn’t have to clean me up after this.”

“Shut up,” Joven whispers. “You’re here, I don’t sleep. It’s fine.” 

“And I’m sorry, your roommate”

“Out of town,” he interrupts quickly. “It’s why I was able to open the door at 2am anyway.”

“Sorry,” Wes murmurs.

“Don’t apologize.” His next words are barely audible. “Fucking asshole. It’s his fault that you-”

Wes catches Joven’s arm, his grip is like steel around Joven’s forearm. “He’s not,” his eyes are like fire, “you don’t understand.”

“You let him hurt you.” 

“I didn’t let him-” Joven can feel Wes shaking, and it breaks something in him. 

He guides his free hand along Wes’s shoulder, the way he remembered an old friend did when it got dark for him. “Hey, hey, let’s-” he moves head with the boy’s across from him to make sure his eyes can’t disappear again. “Let’s talk about something else. Did you watch that movie I gave you yet?”

Wes’s eyes grow soft as he swallows slowly. “Yeah, it was, funny.” 

“Yeah?” Joven feels Wes release his arm, and he moves it along slowly, grabbing for bandaids. “Tell me what you liked best about it.” 

“I liked a lot,” he whispers. “I liked-” His voice falters, and Joven can feel him shaking again. “Why did I even try-?”

“Wes if it hurts,” he holds the tips of Wes’s fingers, “you don’t have to tell me.” 

“No, no,” his fingers twist around Joven’s. Somehow without knowing, Joven knows he won’t let go this time. “Please, it’s better if I just get it out and then forget.” 

“Okay,” Joven nods as he opens a bandaid. “Then tell me.” 

“I just need you to promise you’ll just listen, okay?”

Joven barely nods before softly pressing a bandage on Wes’s cheek. “I’ll try my best.” He finds his fingertips brushing Wes’s collar as he searches for more cuts, and instead, finds aging hickeys pressed deep into his Wes’s neck. 

“It was a normal night, I thought it was, and then, he came back to our apartment, and he was just, so mad.” Wes shakes his head. “I must’ve set him off, I don’t know, and we just, fought and fought, worse than we ever have before, and then he started…” 

“And then you came here.” Joven finishes the sentence for Wes as his eyes grow misty. 

“No,” he shakes his head again. “No. I told him it was over, that I wanted to end us, and then…” Wes’s chest is heaving. He looks up at Joven with eyes heavy with the threat of tears. “Do you have anything stronger than this?” Wes holds up the untouched tea in his hands.

“You want more sugar?” Joven raises an eyebrow.

“I know you have liquor hidden here somewhere.” Wes searches Joven’s eyes. “As much as Mari tells you to stop drinking.” 

“We’ve all got our addictions, don’t we?” Joven pulls away, standing up to grab a mug out of the cabinet. He pulls the top off of the cookie jar, removing a small bottle of vodka from inside. Joven pours himself a glass before topping off Wes’s. 

He sits on his bed next to Wes, hunched over his mug. The two of them drink in silence, the unbroken tension between them buzzing in the air. 

“Why did you come to me?” 

Wes doesn’t answer at first, and in the moment, Joven attributes his silence to Wes’s lightweight nature. 

“You’re safe,” he murmurs. “Warm, nice, kind, despite how you might appear.” 

Joven lets the words he’s been itching to say fall. “I’m the last person you think he’d go to try and find you, right?”

His lips are as soft as Joven expected them to be, puckered slightly so that he can feel the warmth beneath them. He tips his head down, finding his hands buried deep in Wes’s hair, thick and silver between his fingertips. 

It feels wrong, but he’s too tired and too tipsy to care. Wes holds him like he might break, and if Joven were honest with himself, (a rare occurrence), he would feel the same way. His hands grow rough around Joven’s face, moving his lips down a trail from the corner of his mouth, to his cheek, and finally to the curve of his neck. 

** _\--- < / > ---_ **

It’s strange, kissing someone who’s fragile and Joven can feel the intensity. They aren’t strangers, and consider the other as friend, in the barest sense of the meaning. So, this feels wrong, forbidden and against every aspect of the “Bro Code”. Not that Joven cares, because Tipsy Joven, is enjoying this. His lips are soft, and sweet, with the bitter twang of vodka permeating the sweetness.

However, everything else was uncomfortable. Joven pulled away, and felt the instant coldness from where Wes’s tears had met his skin. Joven reached up to wipe the remnants away. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Joven whispered, eyes avoiding Wes’s own. He felt ashamed and yet he still stayed within close proximity. Wes didn’t say anything, only looking away towards the window. 

As the moment dissipated and fizzled, Joven fumbled with the medical supplies. He avoided looking at those sad eyes, as he returned to the task at hand. 

** _\--- < / > ---_ **

The storm faded and Joven offered Wes his bedroom for the night, until Mari or Sohinki was available. Their ragtag friend group was full of the societal rejects. A borderline alcoholic, a party princess hiding from her oppressive family members, a lowkey drug dealer who sells for extra cash and his best customer. The nature of their relationship was unknown- considering the deadpan looks onlookers received in asking. 

Joven settled on the couch, and opened his phone sending Mari and Sohinki a quick text, to alert them of the situation. Mari had a habit of checking in on Wes in the morning. Usually in person and would worry when  _ he _ would answer, hungover and irritated. 

** _\--- < / > ---_ **

**Joven: Hey Mar, Wes and him got into it again and wes came to my place. He’s all good, but when you do your morning check in, come to my apartment. Idk what **exactly** happened last night, but I don’t think Wes will be going back to him. **

He didn’t expect a message in return and was surprised to see the gray dots bouncing as she typed a reply.

**Mari: Are you okay? I assume Wes is sleeping and sound, but wbu?? **

**Joven: Mar,,,, **

**Mari: Jovie,,, **

**Mari: Are you drinking again?**

**Joven: Only because Wes needed it. **

**Mari: ….okay**

**Joven: don’t start this again Mari**

**Mari: I’m not starting anything Joven. You’re bringing it up. We’ll talk more tomorrow- I’m gonna pass tf out. **

**Joven: See you tomorrow. Good night Mari.**

**Mari: Good night Jovie </3**

**Joven: </3**

** _\--- < / > ---_ **

The morning came far too soon. The sky was streaked slate gray with ominously heavy clouds. Joven stretched as his back popped in response to the cramped couch. He shuffled his way to his bedroom, checking on Wes. He laid silent and still, with tear marks streaking down his cheeks, still wet with moisture. Joven’s heart panged with sympathy and he ducked away before Wes woke up.

He set coffee to brew and a kettle for tea. Knocking echoed around the living area signalling Mari’s morning check in. He let her in, and noticed her disheveled appearance. 

“Your neighbors are atrocious.” She scoffed, fixing her jacket. She was still dressed from last night- indicating that she just left some guys house. 

Mari was safe, and usually had her head on straight- the parties were just her rebellion against her family’s strict rules. The drugs however, worried her friends, but she assured them it was under control. The short bandage dress was stained with make-up and self tanner- something that would wash out eventually. Her strappy heels clicked heavily and loudly on the floor and her make-up streaked from sweat and undesirable liquids. 

“Obviously. We aren’t located in Beverly Hills or Hollywood or anything. Just seedy guys and moraless dames going through the motions.” Joven recited. He let her keep her jacket and showed her to his room, where Wes blinked blearily.

“Hey sweetie, how are you?” She asked softly, stepping inside. Joven let them be, tending to the drinks. Mari was the nurturer of the group, after Flitz left for his music career- tired of this disaster story arc. 

After twenty minutes, Mari emerged from the bedroom, and let herself out with a chaste goodbye. Joven hurried to catch her, before she could do something dangerous. 

“Hey, wait. Before you react on impulse, let’s wait for the other guys, so we can do this together- and also fill me in. He was really upset last night and I didn’t want to make him even more upset.” Joven rambled. The fire dimmed slightly in her eyes, before she sighed heavily and allowed Joven to pull her into the apartment once more. 


End file.
